


doctor's orders

by forgotten female (matricide)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matricide/pseuds/forgotten%20female





	1. 1

She’s hopeless.

She’s going to die soon, anyways.

Leave her be.

 

Growing up, no doctor believed in you. Your condition was something that they hadn’t seen. Something that they didn’t want to take care of. Certainly not.

They barely tried, no matter how much your mother punched and screamed for them to help your trembling form.

It was horrible when you were young, but you didn’t remember most of it. You were glad you didn’t. No one would really want to remember horrible things like that. Doctors leaving you to die? Not the peachiest thing to take a picture of and hang in a frame on your wall.

As you matured, everything got a little less horrible.

You were still a weak person, but you managed. Passing out often and all wasn’t fun, but thankfully no one had done anything.. ‘bad’ to you.

You moved from doctor to doctor, trying to find one that actually wanted and maybe would attempt to deal with you. The most you’d hear is an ‘I’m sorry’. No one wanted to deal with the girl who had something no one could solve.

So, you went online, trying to find some kind of person who’d deal with you. On the surface, it was something horrible, but it was just passing out. There had only been one or two times your heart had stopped. No big deal.

Browsing online chatrooms did you no good at first, but after a week on a Discord server, you found someone who was willing to tell you about a certain hospital that had a good chance of wanting to help you. Specifically, one certain doctor.

[ Shiro_20 ]  
I think my mom went there a few times, and he actually helped her seizures. Like, she literally didn’t have one ever again. I didn’t want to tell you about it at first, since I didn’t know if you’d be scared of him or not. It’s the Oath of Asclepius Hospital, you’ll probably find it online lol. Everyone just calls it Enami, tho. Good luck, (U/N).

Set up for disappointment was something really common, but at this point, you didn’t really have much to lose. The staff would give you weird looks, the doctors would say they couldn’t help you and to get lots of sleep, and you would have to leave again.

Online, the most you could find of the hospital was that it was in a small town called Ena-Ami. Researching the town as much as you could, you found that it was mostly referred to as Enami.

Thankfully, there were a few houses available to buy. Your father and mother, having been a successful pair, gave all their money to your grandmother when they passed. She’s retired, and still gets money from some ‘company’ she won’t tell you about. She offered to give you enough money for now to pay an entire year of anything you generally needed in terms of the house. You accepted instantly.

What a nice woman.

The online pictures of the house looked stunning. So many rooms, and it was huge as well. Nothing like a Home Owner’s Club in sight. It even stated that directly in the description. Extremely convenient, almost like a dream come true.

It faintly reminded you of some kind of cartoon villain’s house, and you found it strange that there was another that looked exactly like your own just a few miles away. It was like they were clones of eachother.

It didn’t take too long to move in at all, and even if this hospital was a bust, the mansion sure as hell wasn’t. It was secluded, so you didn’t have to worry too much about any kind of sound complaint.

When you walked into the house, the movers had gotten there before you, and you could tell that a lot of your things were still in boxes. You sighed in relief, knowing that they hadn’t been there for too long at all. One of the men noticed you, gesturing to you at his co-worker next to him. The other man perked up, noticing your presence as well.

You smiled sweetly at him, your brows upturned a little in shyness. He got up, handing you a clipboard of numerous writing to sign and fill out. You cringed a little, skipping most of it to just sign your name at the bottom.

The man sighed when you handed it back to him, having been through many people who had done the same as you. He couldn’t blame you, though. You didn’t even think he would want to go through all of that tiny writing. 

You walked past the many men in the open living room area. Definitely not cramped.

Like the little kid you were on the inside, you immediately ran up the stairs in excitement to see the next floor of the house, not even bothering to see the bottom for yourself. The pictures online showed many of the bottom, but not too many of the upstairs. It triggered a detective-like sense in your mind to check things out. You were so childish when by yourself.

Your grabby hands gripped the railing as you ran up the gorgeous dark wood spiral, slowly beginning to love the sound that each step made against your feet.

After the stairs was a spacious area, and to your right was a narrow hallway. Damn, it might be a little difficult to haul something big through that.

As you walked through the hallway, you grazed the walls with your fingertips, realizing that there were quite a few more doors than listed on the website. A pleasant surprise.

You opened every door, thinking that you wouldn’t miss any rooms if you closed each one after looking through it.

You went through the first door on the left.

The walls were painted with a gloomy, de-saturated blue. Almost pastel, but almost ugly. You enjoyed the color nonetheless. It was large, as you expected all the rooms to be. A glorious mirror to your left, hanging on the wall. The gold frame was too beautiful not to touch.

Engraved into the frame was a butterfly, seemingly flying away from the smoke surrounding it. A feeling of uneasiness overcame you. You felt uncomfortable with how this room seemed to be dedicated to the mirror, it being in the middle of the wall. A dark gradient was fading upwards from the floor, blending so nicely into the paint. It had the feel and aesthetic of a graveyard.

You backed out of the room and found yourself in the hallway again. You closed the door to the first room on the left.

Next was the room on the right. As you entered, a smell of roses filled your nostrils. It was the opposite of the room you had just been in. You wondered if someone had just sprayed perfume.

While still having the same size of the past room, the wallpaper was a light red, almost pink. At the edges of each corner was a pretty rose painted into the red. It stood out, being a darker and deeper of a color. 

The sweet smell of roses didn’t seem to have any clear source, as if the room was just made out of it. As if the smell was built in. You inhaled the scent, smiling as your uneasy mood from the last room faded. You almost forgot about it, really.

Looking up at the ceiling, you decided that this would be your room.

..You noticed a pretty painting of a cherry blossom scenery on the wall.

And, you were happy that you had made that decision so quickly. The other rooms were normal, grey painted rooms. No distinct layout, nothing. As if those two first rooms were the only ones designed to be different.

You’d probably want to re-decorate them at some point in the future, but not at that moment in time.

You wandered back downstairs after discovering that the bathroom was near the upstairs ‘lobby’, thinking that the movers probably needed a little help or approval. And, even if they didn’t, you’d still want to make sure everything was going smoothly.

“Yeah, one of the rooms is locked off. None of our lockmasters can open it, but from the map and look of the house, we’re pretty sure it’s just a medium-sized closet. Nothing to worry about.”

While you were a little sad to hear this news, you weren’t too disappointed. It’s just a supposed closet, and there were many in the house already. You’d probably just hang bags or coats on the doorknob.

Your shoes clicked against the pretty flooring of the kitchen as the movers unpacked your things as you specified. A beautiful marble counter and sink with dark-wooded drawers.

..You noticed a painting of a burnt, pitch black scenery. It disturbed you a little.

You had ordered some extra furniture, so those would hopefully arrive sometime in the afternoon. Couches, and a few more paintings. 

Though, the house seemed to be already packed with them. The upstairs lobby had a painting, and so did the kitchen. As well as a few other paintings in the regular rooms upstairs.

So many paintings. They seemed to have a meaning, but, not one that you’d take into mind. You didn’t really have the energy to play some mystery game and piece everything together.

They were just pretty paintings made by talented people. Normal, talented people.


	2. 2

It took a while for your room to be set up, mostly because you spent most of your time ordering the movers to place your stuff as you sat on the first chair that was ever unpacked. Eventually, you went to help as they began picking up boxes you’d covered with the word ‘PERSONALS’ in the thickest sharpie you could find. You were very over-protective of whatever junk you tossed in those boxes. Well, to anyone else, it would be junk. To you, on the other hand, it was special. A couple of manga collections, an old diary you never used, and other items.

You felt like you were helping, even if you only really picked up a few boxes. If you didn’t feel like you were helping in some way, you felt useless, so you’d much rather pick up a few boxes and sort the insides to look nice in the selected room.

It took a little more time than expected for the extra furniture to show up, as well as the refrigerator. You were pleased either way, at least you got one at all, right?

In between carrying, unpacking, ordering, and planning, you pulled your phone out of your pocket after having a mini-panic attack, thinking you lost it. You began to text your grandmother, telling her how thankful you were, etc. Part of you knew she wouldn’t know how to text, but that was alright.

All you got back was, ‘No, thank you darling’. For half a second, you thought she was rejecting your thanks, but then realized she was thanking you back. You didn’t really care enough to ask what she meant, since she’d probably have the hardest time explaining it. It lingered in your mind a little, though. Not for that long, though.

You could tell the movers were getting bored quickly, so, being the wannabe-social butterfly you were, you tried your best to strike up conversation.

“So, have you done services for other people in this Ena-Ami?” You asked. The mover you were speaking to just laughed, giving you a second or two to realize how strange that sounded. “O-Oh, no, not like that!” You chuckled sheepishly.

“Yeh, I’ve done a move or two around these parts. I think I remember doing one just like this house. I can’t be asked to tell if it’s Deja-vu or not. If it’s not, then the makers of these houses are weirdos.” He rolled his eyes. “What’d be the point of makin’ TWO houses that are exactly the same?”

You shrugged. “Maybe it was a good seller to the point of them wanting to make another?” He shook his head at your response. After that, the conversation died a little. You attempted to ask about the locked room they told you about previously, but all the man wanted to tell you was that they couldn’t get it open and that was all they knew. You trusted that, for whatever reason. It just seemed..true. Not that it would be too crazy if he lied. He might just not want to talk about it.

You motioned for one of the movers to place your new bed upstairs as he was carrying it in. “In the room on the right, please? The pink-ish one.” He nodded, calling for one of his co-workers to come and help him with getting the mattress upstairs, as another followed along a little far behind, struggling to catch up with a box in hand. Most likely full of parts for the bedframe.

A few pretty vases were placed around the house, you having told the men to just put them wherever they’d like. One was placed in the kitchen, another on the platform above the fire-place, and the others went upstairs to be put on (hopefully) tables in other rooms.

The downstairs was eventually furnished nicely, a pretty, white fluffy rug being put in front of the fireplace on the right while surrounded by two armchairs. The kitchen was to the left, another room that led to the backyard being a little ways behind it. That painting, though. That painting of the burnt-down scenery. It put a bad feeling in your stomach, but you decided not to move it. You felt like you’d be disrespecting whoever made and put it there.  
Each room was furnished a little differently, though, you had decided to be the one who decorated yours the most.

The movers worked a little differently than you did. You decorated rooms fully before moving onto the next, while they did little things in each room, building their way up with each. Though, there were quite a few men working.

It didn’t matter much to you how they worked, as long as work got done. And, the work WAS getting done, so it’s not like you had much room to complain.

.. what’s that feeling? It’s so..familiar.

You spiraled into a coughing fit, feeling your heart start to pound quite a bit. It was painful with how rough and quick it beat in your chest. Eyes wide, you barely managed to make your way to the front door and to the table next to it where you’d placed your bag down.

Your shaky hands rummaged through it, pulling out everything you could until you found an orange container of pills. There was only one left, barely your normal dose..

You took it while you could, almost struggling to get the bottle open.

These pills only had a small chance of helping you out, but it was all you had to help you out at least a little. You swallowed it whole, almost regrettably coughing it up since you didn’t have any water to wash it down. It was dry and briefly scratched at your throat before finally going down as it should. The bottle immediately fell to the floor, clattering and rolling against the polished wood flooring. The sound echoed through your head.

You collapsed to the floor after attempting to move to the kitchen where you knew at least one of the men were. The rest were upstairs.

Your back pressed against the wall, your feet kicking and sliding against the floor in a helpless panic. The pounding of your heart in your ears was giving you a headache, fast. Your eyes briefly rolled up into your skull. You felt like you were going to vomit or die, either one would be a great release.

Until,  
It stopped.

You gasped a sigh of relief, thankful that you had time to breathe. Hopefully another attack wouldn’t happen any time soon, but if it did, you were basically fucked into falling unconscious for a few hours once a single attack ended painfully.

Your breathing quickly slowed down, your hand grasping at your chest as you rested on the floor for a minute or so. Just to give yourself some time to recover. At least that was a more forgiving attack.

Your hands pushed yourself off the floor, your legs almost giving away the first time you tried. You gathered your things from on the floor and put them back in your bag.


End file.
